[Ithaeliel]

Feadhros was aghast. What train of thought had brought Nuhrive's temper to rise so, he knew naught, yet he felt badly. Perhaps he had pressured her too much for a straight answer. She knew he was close to her mother and father; it would be easy to suspect him of ratting on her. She also appeared to consider him an adult though he was not; he sympathized with mischevious souls being still young and rebellious himself. He almost pursued the poor girl, but his conscience held him back. What would she think?

Feadhros would still not let the matter go. Turning to the boy, he spoke in a hushed tone. "Sultir, as Nuhrive called you by, we must find her. She is not safe."
Sultir nodded. "You're right. She may run across the path of Milar and Isolde, in which case she will be in more trouble than she already is."
Feadhros looked anxiously around at the trees. "But that is the least of my worries for her. There are tribes of vicious Easterlings that are far too near these forests, and I have not the heart to think what may happen if Nuhrive runs across their path."

Sultir went white. "I know where she might have gone. Follow me!"

Weaving their way through the castle, Sultir and Feadhros' hearts pounded with worry. Though brave and clever, Nuhrive was quite vulnerable to be caught alone in the Golden Wood's present situation. Their friend was in grave danger.

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]